


Toy Soldier

by InkgooSupernova



Series: The Winter System [24]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bed-Wetting, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes has DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kid Bucky Barnes, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Age Play, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Short One Shot, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Vomiting, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkgooSupernova/pseuds/InkgooSupernova
Summary: The air was frigid, he could feel his stuffing growing ice crystals.He didn't have stuffing. He couldn't have stuffing. Stuffing was white and puffy.The stuff coming out of his belly was red and wet.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: The Winter System [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693231
Comments: 15
Kudos: 125





	Toy Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> This story features depictions of gun shots and wounds as well as brief references to vomiting and wetting.
> 
> Reader Discretion is Advised.

The air was frigid, he could feel his stuffing growing ice crystals.

He didn't have stuffing. He couldn't have stuffing. Stuffing was white and puffy.

The stuff coming out of his belly was red and wet.

That morning he was pulled from the Soldier's cold, damp bed and stuffed into heavy clothes that were far too tight against his fur. His head was empty and confused and scared. He was shoved into a van with all of the big year olds that made sure the Soldier did his job.

But he wasn't the Soldier. Not at all.

He wasn't too sure _what_ he was, but he wasn't the Soldier.

He didn't belong in heavy, tight clothes, he belonged in a big, warm bed being cuddled to sleep. He shouldn't be holding a cold, heavy gun, he should've been holding a warm, soft blanket.

He was _scared._

The men lead him deeper and deeper into the snow blanketed forest. His feet were aching so bad and his legs felt like they were made of wet wash cloths. However, when he tried to sit down in the cold snow to let his aching body rest, the men shouted at him to keep moving. He felt so _tired_.

Then there were more people.

They came out of the trees, the sudden roar of thunder scaring him half to death.

Except it wasn't thunder. It was guns.

The men were shooting guns back, yelling at him to do the same.

He was frozen stiff, like he was soaked to the core and left out in the snow overnight.

He whimpered, lifting the heavy gun up the best he could. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

He could hear the sound of bodies dropping into the snow, the heavy crunch of ice replacing the roar of bullets.

One of the men pat his shoulder, even called him a good boy.

He didn't feel good.

He was startled by the bark of another bullet, followed by the horrible feeling of a needle piercing straight through his side.

He couldn't keep his legs under him. He had to lay down.

He fell face first into the snow.

So there he was, laying in the freezing snow, the wet, red not-stuffing pooling around his belly.

The men were all over him, it was all too loud.

"Soldier. Soldier eyes on me." One of the men barked, grabbing his face and shaking his head.

He opened his eyes, trying so hard to focus on the men around him.

"There, there you are, good boy. Good boy." The man looked so distraught, moving his freezing cold hand all over his neck. He whined, trying to move away from the hand.

There was the white hot sting of another needle stabbing into him. He couldn't help the startled shriek that escaped him. The thought of a warm, strong, blond man flashed through his terrified, overstuffed head.

He wanted his Daddy.

"Be a little more gentle, would'ya?!" The man barked to one of the other men, who was currently shoving a strange looking metal thing into the spot in his belly where the red not-stuffing was leaking from. "Here, focus on me, Soldier."

Right. The Soldier. He had to be the Soldier.

But he _wasn't_ the Soldier. He was tiny and frail and _scared_.

He cried out as he felt the men tug the bullet out of his belly, watching as the wet, red not-stuffing dripped from the deadly accessory. He could see the deep, oozing hole that was dug into his body. He watched in shocked horror as the flesh throbbed and twitched, pulsing in time with his rapid heart rate. He could feel the stuffing in his tummy pooling up into his throat, unable to stop himself from spilling his stuffing onto himself.

It wasn't stuffing. Stuffing wasn't liquid or yellow.

He trembled with a twisted mixture of terror and cold, already feeling overly hot and sick as he accidentally wet himself, adding to the awful mixture of fluids in the now slush-like snow beneath him.

"Winnie. It's okay." The man huffed, shaking his shoulder with his freezing hand.

The men never knew his name.

The men only knew the Soldier's name.

This was wrong.

This wasn't happening. Not anymore.

Winnie bolted up with a shrill, terrified scream.

"Winnie, baby it's okay, it's okay." Daddy was there, sitting next to him in the big, warm bed. Uncle Sam was there too, sitting on the other side. There was no snow or guns or red not-stuffing. There was only him, Daddy, Uncle Sam, and their room.

He sobbed, latching himself to Daddy's chest. He felt the other's warm, strong arms wrap around him, followed by Uncle Sam's chest pressing against the back of his head, another pair of strong, warm arms surrounding him.

He was _so scared._

"Here, it's okay, lamb," Daddy hummed, rocking him back and fourth as he cried into his chest. "It was just a bad dream, it's over now."

He shook his head, hiccuping on another sob.

"No? Was it a memory dream?" Uncle Sam asked, rubbing his aching shoulder. It felt much nicer than the dream.

Except it wasn't _just_ a dream.

He could remember that day, the same way they all remembered different days from back then: vague, fuzzy, yet all too real.

He nodded his head, sniffling against the tears that raced down his cheeks. He could feel the unpleasant squish of his soaked padding between his legs, but he was far too tired to care.

"Oh, lamb, it's okay. It's gonna be okay." Daddy squeezed him just a little tighter, pulling him back together. "You're here in the tower. The bad people are all gone. You're safe with us."

_Safe._

It felt like an eternity of drowning in the ocean of tears that escaped him before his frightened cries finally withered down into the quiet hiccup of the aftershocks.

"There, there's our little bear, you okay?" Daddy was rubbing his shoulder the way Uncle Sam was before. He sniffled, nodding his tired, wrung out head.

"That's good, I know your dream must have been really scary, but it's okay now. You're safe in the tower, no one's ever gonna hurt you again." Uncle Sam explained, his voice soft and clear, almost like he was reading him a story. "That's all in the past now, you're safe with us."

"Here, lets get you cleaned-oh?" Daddy began, trying to pull away from him.

He was already fast asleep, drooling against his Daddy's shirt.

"The poor thing must be exhausted..." Uncle Sam sighed, rubbing his back softly.

"Lets just let him rest, I'll help clean him up in the morning." Daddy smiled weakly, laying back down and letting the tired teddy snuggle against his chest. He could feel Uncle Sam cuddle close behind him, the two men protecting him from the outside world.

The air was toasty, he could feel his stuffing loosening from the tight, frightened knots in his tummy.

He was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Any behaviors related to DID or Autism Spectrum Neurodivergency within this story are based on **personal experiences** and are not a scientific basis or professional explanation for either DID systems or Autism Spectrum Neurodivergency. No two people, let alone no two systems, are exactly the same.
> 
> Kudos and Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
